


With you gone

by msmooseberry



Category: Life Is Strange 2 (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempted Kidnapping, Attempted Sexual Assault, Disappearance, Dissociation, Family Drama, Gen, Halloween, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Minor Character Death, Serial Killers, Suspense, Thriller, Tragedy, Violence, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:42:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27337354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msmooseberry/pseuds/msmooseberry
Summary: Sean disappeared on the night he went to that stupid Halloween party at Eric’s house. Seven whole years ago.Daniel remembers it clearly though.
Comments: 13
Kudos: 37





	With you gone

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I wrote this based on the promt "Disappearance" from the [Halloween-themed list](https://twitter.com/msmooseberry/status/1312028296629149702?s=21) enanowo and I compiled early in October. Not gonna lie, it turned out super heavy, so please check the tags before reading. Happy (late) Halloween!
> 
> And look at [this wonderful art of Daniel](https://twitter.com/kimi_no_taion/status/1323609816787464192?s=21) Kimi_No_Taion made based on this fic!

Sean disappeared on the night he went to that stupid Halloween party at Eric’s house. Seven whole years ago.

Daniel remembers it clearly though. How in the morning he ran into his brother’s room to wake him up for a late breakfast (that day, a Saturday, he and Dad both slept in) and found his bed empty. It wasn’t made so he thought Sean had to be in the bathroom, but it was empty too.

Then he went complaining to Dad. Who didn’t think anything of it at first, or rather, Daniel now realises, didn’t let his worry show for his sake.

“He must’ve spent the night at Lyla’s,” he said to reassure him, a nine-year-old bratty kid who had no idea that he would never see his brother again. He remembers pouting and mumbling some bullshit about how it wasn’t fair.

A call to Lyla later in the afternoon made it clear that Sean hadn’t spent the night at her place. And that she hadn’t seen him since they said their goodbyes on the porch of the cabin, because Eric persuaded her to stay another hour and Sean said he’d catch an Uber home.

Only he never made it home. And he wasn’t answering his phone.

Whether he did catch an Uber was something Dad tried to find out for the rest of the day, making numerous calls and talking in a tense clipped tone that made Daniel nervous and hesitant to ask any questions. He even kept quiet about being hungry, feeling that it wasn’t the right time to ask for snacks or candy. Despite the fact that it was almost Halloween.

In the evening Dad called 911 to report a missing person.

And it felt surreal, to hear Dad talk about Sean as ‘missing’. Just the other day they were playing zombies, fooling around with the sticky fake blood Daniel made, surely he was coming back soon.

Sean didn’t come back.

The following several days all blended into one and felt like a living nightmare. Dad was at the police station a lot, leaving Daniel with Lyla. She volunteered to help looking for Sean but Dad asked her to stay with him instead and she did, for about a week or so.

Then she had a bad mental breakdown and had to be taken to a hospital. Back then it scared Daniel a lot and he thought it was somehow his fault.

But he remembers her bloodshot vacant eyes with deep dark circles underneath, her thin fake-cheerful voice and the light tremble in her fingers as she helped to arrange a tower out of building blocks in his room, and he knows - all along she was blaming herself for letting Sean go alone that night.

And with time Daniel started blaming her too. Loathing her for it.

After rehab she moved away to finish school in Portland. Graduated and went to college there. And Sean didn’t.

He never got to graduate. Never got to choose college. Never got to leave this shitty dirty city Daniel hates so much.

Although that was one of the first versions the cops dished out when Dad finally persuaded them to open a case. They suggested that Sean simply ran away. They didn’t understand that it was absolutely impossible and wouldn’t listen when Dad told them so.

The search parties that went through their neighbourhood and the surrounding area near Eric’s cabin came back empty handed, and the cursory questioning of a bunch of teens who were at the party gave them nothing, so in their hurry to declare the case closed the cops turned their attention to Dad himself.

Daniel still seethes from the memories of Dad being questioned, no, basically interrogated in their own home, demanded to provide an alibi for the night of Sean’s disappearance, and asked if there was anyone other than his kid son who could vouch for him.

By that point Dad had barely been sleeping for more than a week and his nerves were high-strung. Harsh words Daniel could hear even through the closed door of his room were exchanged and resulted in Dad being taken to the station where he was detained for 48 hours and then released for lack of evidence, and any fucking common sense.

Those two days Daniel spent at Sam’s. Feeling lost and helpless. And absolutely freaked out when a child services worker came to ask him vague unsettling questions about Dad ever acting aggressive or violent with Sean or him.

And then Sean’s backpack was found. On the curb of a road, way out of the city, closer to the Mount Rainier National Park. It held all of Sean’s things in it. His phone, his keys, his wallet, his ID, a bunch of stuff he had clearly packed for the party, and his sketchbook. The one Dad had given him for his sixteenth birthday that summer. The one Sean never parted with ever since.

It didn’t make any sense, the backpack being there but not Sean.

They looked for him, of course. Searched the park, the hiking trails, the river. Checked the road cameras and the nearest gas stations. At least that’s what they said in a short report on the local news.

They never found him. Or any trace of him for that matter. Not a week later. Not a month, nor three months from that day. And since there were no new leads or evidence the case went cold and was left at that.

Putting up the missing person posters didn’t help. Handing them out didn’t help. The calls they received with empty promises and fake information about Sean’s whereabouts didn’t help either.

Daniel remembers one of them that he took himself. Dad was working downstairs on Sean’s car, convinced that he still needed to finish it, no matter what, so it was Daniel who picked up the phone to hear some woman with a smooth deep voice telling him that she knew where his brother was. But that she would be able to tell him only if his faith was strong enough.

And he got so hopeful in that moment, his breath caught in his throat and his knees grew weak. It sounded too good to be true, which it had proven to be in the end, but as he was holding the phone in his cold sweaty hand he felt extremely elated. Believing for the tiniest bit that he could be the one who helped to bring Sean back. To have him in his room again, just across the hall. To make Dad smile and joke again, because he hadn’t done it since the day Sean went missing. To get everything back to normal.

It was just a scam. Some crazy fanatic attempting to use their tragedy to manipulate them. Dad yelled at her after Daniel gave him the phone, explaining with a foolish happy smile that somebody knew where Sean was. And then he yelled at him, for being so gullible.

He didn’t mean to, and even apologised later, explaining that he simply hated to see someone try to take advantage of him like that. He didn’t mean it to sound like Daniel was a stupid kid easy to lead on and ready to trust every stranger. Daniel understands, but he cried himself to sleep that night, clutching Sean’s sketchbook close to his chest and wishing more than anything in the world that his brother was there.

Celebrating Christmas without Sean felt wrong.

And every other holiday after that honestly. But that first Christmas without him was unbearable. They decorated the house and the Christmas tree, like they usually did, and Dad went all out on dinner, cooking enough for three. Daniel had spent a whole week making a present for Sean, a station for the spaceship he had given him on his birthday that year. Sean said it was the coolest gift he had ever received from him. He would’ve definitely liked an addition to it. If he ever had the chance to see it.

On the morning of the Christmas Eve, after he opened his own present, which he can’t even remember now, Daniel took the station to Sean’s room himself. In the following months he often slipped there in the middle of the night and lay in Sean’s bed, hoping that he would wake him up himself, get all fussy about his annoying little bro coming there without his permission, tickle him until he got tears in his eyes, put him in a headlock. Anything. Daniel would’ve gladly let him do anything if it meant he got to see him again.

He liked staying in Sean’s room during the day as well, looking through his stuff. He did it with a great amount of hesitation at first, but as more months passed and he never got scolded for snooping, even when Dad caught him ruffling through Sean’s bedside table, he got bolder, eager to learn as much about his brother as possible. He leafed through his sketchbook almost daily, committing each page to memory. And after Dad let him have Sean’s phone, returned to them with everything else that was found in his backpack, he scrolled through all of his texts, pretending he stole it again to send something to Lyla and that Sean was about to wrestle it out of his hands.

It somewhat dulled the pain from the knowledge that it wasn’t really going to happen.

Karen’s parents, his grandparents who Daniel had never met and who had never bothered to send a single card before, came to Seattle one day, to see how they were holding up apparently. Daniel wasn’t very thrilled to see them, and neither was Dad.

Then, when it was time for them to leave they suggested that Daniel came with them because they believed he would do better in a small town, Beaver Something, where he wouldn't be constantly reminded of his missing brother. Dad actually looked ready to agree, despite the obviously tense relationship they had. But Daniel refused.

He didn’t want to _not_ be there if (or, as he thought back then, when) his brother returned. Leaving would turn him into a traitor. It would mean he admitted that Sean wasn’t coming back any time soon, if at all. And that he stopped waiting for him.

But he didn’t. He probably never will.

It was clear, however, that the older Daniel got the harder it was for Dad to look at him. Perhaps because with each passing year he resembled the son he had failed to keep safe more and more.

So he drowned himself in work, taking so many orders he came home drained and exhausted and normally went straight to his room once they had dinner in awkward silence. And it hurt because Daniel always considered Dad to be his best friend, but without Sean there they started drifting apart, and Daniel had no idea how to change that.

They coped with Sean’s disappearance differently, but it hit them both harder because of Karen. The wife Dad couldn’t completely let go in his heart, the mother whose love Daniel wasn’t lucky enough to experience. Her and Sean walking out of their lives never to return left their family damaged beyond repair, only unlike her Sean wouldn’t have done it willingly, Daniel knows that.

Although there were days when he hated him for being gone. And on those days he let himself believe that disappearing was Sean’s own choice. It made his absence somewhat more bearable, but not by much.

The dreams were the worst. Of Sean coming back.

Daniel wanted to stay mad every time his brain constructed a fantasy where he returned, but in the end all he did was cry from happiness and try to hug his brother as hard as humanly possible. And when he woke up, alone and with face wet from tears, he wished he could go back to sleep and dream forever, pretending that the cruel reality didn’t exist.

At one point it got so bad Dad took him to a therapist, who was pretty useless and made Daniel want to shut everything out even more, her best advice being that he should try and write letters to Sean to express what he was feeling about his absence. What point was there in writing a letter when there was no address to send it to, and probably no person to receive it at all?

Still, Daniel wondered if Sean ever did the same thing to let go of the anger and bitterness he most likely felt towards Karen. And if he did whether it was even worth the trouble.

With time Daniel turned angry and bitter himself.

And school only made it worse, because when does it make anything better? Everybody knew everything. Some pitied him, some were being dicks, Daniel couldn’t stand either. Sometimes he spaced out, ignoring the shit they talked about him in the hallways. When it didn’t work he got into fights, and lost, a lot. His grades dropped too.

Dad was called in to talk about his academic failures on multiple occasions and gave him half-hearted lectures when they were driving back home. It got so bad eventually that home schooling became an option, and Daniel had to make an effort to pull himself together and finish junior high with the lowest passing grades.

Because staying at home became a torture. No matter how many years passed their house still reeked of old happy memories. Karen’s bike continued to hang on a rack in the basement and Sean’s drawings continued to hang on the walls practically in every other room. Dad didn’t have the heart to take them down. And Daniel didn’t have the mental strength to argue with him about it.

The older he grew, the more time he tried to spend anywhere else. High school was shit, so he took to skipping classes, wandering off without any particular destination in mind. Then he took Sean’s old skateboard and his walks got some purpose.

Instead of sitting through boring classes he skated through the suburbs, looking for skateparks, and sometimes hung out with random skaters under old bridges and at abandoned parking lots.

It’s there that Daniel first discovered the part of him that had been dormant his whole life, waiting for the worst moment to make an appearance.

The day it happened some assholes from his school who Daniel didn’t even recognise turned up at the parking lot where he was practising new tricks and failing so much his palms and knees were a bloody mess. He barely felt it, determined to do the flip Sean drew in his sketchbook. And he probably wouldn’t have noticed they were there at all if only one fucker hadn’t started yapping some bullshit about his family. About him being a retarded soon-to-be drop-out. About Dad being a filthy good-for-nothing immigrant. And about Sean being long-dead and rotting somewhere in a ditch.

That must’ve been what triggered him. He doesn’t remember much aside from an awful itch deep in his bones and high-pitched ringing in his ears. Then, cracked concrete under his feet, overturned old car carcasses ditched there to rust and those shitheads lying motionless several feet away.

Sean’s skateboard lay there shattered as well. And out of everything that got broken that day Daniel felt bad only about that.

Still, he refused to believe he was the one who did it, and the following week did his best to convince himself he hallucinated the whole freakish incident. But the bruised limping bullies who gave him dirty looks and a wide berth at school didn’t let him forget about it.

And then he got curious. For the first time in what felt like forever he felt alive. So he went to that same ruined parking lot, conveniently hidden from the road by unkempt overgrown shrubbery on one side and overflowing dumpsters on the other, and started experimenting.

It wasn’t easy, and most times left him frustrated and dead tired. Besides, Daniel had no idea what he was doing it for and what was the purpose of him having this power. Eventually he got the hang of it though. Actually, in the three years that he’s been training he has become pretty good with it. And now at sixteen he can easily crush rocks, bend metal and lift huge rusty trucks.

Yet it hardly makes him feel any more powerful than he was at nine. So what if he can do these stupid circus-worthy mind tricks. They won’t help him bring his brother back, or find out what really happened to him.

He never told Dad about his power either. It seemed pointless since they barely spoke to each other on good days and on bad ones their strained conversations often turned to screaming arguments with Dad wanting to ground him for skipping school and Daniel not giving a damn about that. He even had to sneak out of the window to go train at night so that Dad wouldn’t get on his ass about breaking curfew or some other stupid shit he was suddenly so adamant about.

Daniel didn’t care. About Dad losing his shit when he didn’t show up for dinner, or sometimes even for breakfast. About not having a single friend he could confide in after he punched Noah in the face in front of the whole cafeteria back in fifth grade. And least of all he cared about his own safety when he went on long night walks.

He wanted to be antagonistic, he wanted to be left alone, and he welcomed potential danger, waiting to be pushed to use his power. To sense the thrill of it that would prove he was still capable of feeling something.

No wonder people at school have long since dismissed him as a nutcase. Not that Daniel could be bothered less about their idiotic opinions.

Especially today. October 28. Exactly seven years after Sean went missing.

Each year Daniel hopes it will be different, that it will get better. But the memories and the suffocating sense of loss take residence in his head on this day without fault, pushing everything else aside and making him numb to the world as he’s boiling and seething with grief on the inside.

Maybe that’s why he agrees to something he would otherwise never do willingly.

He goes to a party.

It’s Noah who invites him. Somehow, despite their major falling-out and Daniel’s nonexistent attempts to set things right, he remains the only person in the whole school who still tolerates him. And as if that’s not more than enough he also tries to pull him into one form of social life or another from time to time. Why is beyond Daniel’s comprehension. But as long as Noah provides him with an occasional blunt or two, Daniel doesn’t protest too much.

He started smoking weed last spring, just for the hell of it. The shit Noah got him wasn’t too strong and gave him a nice buzz that took his mind off how shitty his sixteenth birthday went. He even took Sean’s pipe, chuckling fondly at the memory of his brother getting busted for a stash he kept in his room. Daniel rarely came in there lately. But that day he went straight for Sean’s beanbag after he got home well past midnight, ignoring the cake Dad had left for him on the kitchen table.

Birthdays don’t bring him joy anymore. They only remind him of what they used to be like. Same as Halloween.

So when he arrives at the address Noah texted him and sees the front lawn, littered with glowing pumpkins and ugly plastic ghosts, he grimaces at the overly bright display.

Coming here was a mistake, he realises and wants to turn on his heel and walk away when a car pulls into the drive and several people spill out of it, Noah included. He spots him before Daniel can escape and waves enthusiastically in greeting.

“Heey, Diaz! Good thing you showed up.” Two girls behind him giggle, ogling Daniel like another atrocious decoration. His lips twist in a frown.

“Yeah, right, whatever,” he grumbles, flinching when Noah marches up to him and unceremoniously grabs him by the shoulder.

“You won’t regret it, man,” he says in an overly cheerful tone, pushing Daniel’s stiff body towards the entrance. When they are almost there he pulls a bag half-way out of his pocket, flashing it to Daniel with a wink. “I got the good shit that’s gonna totally blow your mind, if you’re up for it.”

Daniel’s reluctance subsides a little at that and he nods, getting the hint.

Stealing cash from Dad’s desk was pretty easy, the lock on the drawer was hardly an obstacle with how well he’s learned to use his power. Dad will notice that the money is gone, eventually, but that will be the future Daniel’s problem. Right now he’s ready to get high. And if that means he has to endure the company of Noah and his shit ton of tipsy clingy friends for a while then so be it.

The house is packed and the moment they enter Daniel gets hit by the blaring tasteless music and the heavy smell of smoke, alcohol and cheap perfume with a thick undertone of sweat. Noah drops him as soon as he sees someone across the living room and Daniel knows he’ll find him later once he’s paid his respects to a bunch of other potential buyers. That’s the drill and Daniel resigns himself to an hour at the least in this spastic smelly hell.

He fucking hates parties. But he had to come today.

Because ever since he turned sixteen he couldn’t stop thinking about how this October he would be as old as his brother was when he disappeared. And the next October he would be older.

He can’t explain even to himself why this fact holds so much significance to him, but as he stands in the hall of someone’s house, full of already wasted clumsy teens, he feels like he is sharing the same experience that could’ve been Sean’s last.

And that’s what makes it important that he stays.

The hall, however, is definitely not the best spot to stop and stare around like a lunatic. Daniel learns that when someone crashes into him from behind, clearly eager to join the party. So he brushes off the curses they send his way and shuffles to the living room, finding an unoccupied corner.

Leaning back against the wall helps him feel more grounded and Daniel manages to relax a little, although the tension of being in such a crowded place doesn’t leave him completely. Minutes trickle by as he watches randomly moving people, who seem to lose sharpness bit by bit and soon blend together into one indistinguishable squirming mass. He squints his eyes in the hope to return his focus but it doesn’t work and Daniel closes them shut, taking a couple of deep breaths to feel his chest expand and sag with the air moving in and out.

When he finally dares to look around the room again it remains to be bright and hectic and filled with ear-splitting music. The only difference is that Daniel becomes desensitised to it, so much so that he can relate more to the sofa standing at the opposite wall than to people sitting on it. He blinks slowly, wondering how many seconds, minutes, hours have passed since he closed his eyes. He raises his hand to his face and gets caught off guard by his body still being responsive because the longer he stands there motionless like a piece of furniture, the harder it gets to believe that he isn’t one.

Has Sean ever felt so out of place in a similar setting? Has he ever zoned out and wished he would regain control over his senses and act human faster? Or like, in time to be able to react accordingly when someone comes to chat him up?

Like Noah is doing right now.

Daniel jerks, tearing his fixed gaze off the sofa and dragging it sideways to meet black wide-pupiled eyes and quickly moving mouth, spewing words Daniel has a hard time catching over the music. Judging by the way Noah frowns and reaches to yank at his sleeve, he’s starting to get impatient.

“Dude, you already took a hit on the house or somethin’?” Daniel hears his voice sharp and clear all of a sudden, probably because he’s yelling next to his ear.

Daniel forces himself to snap out of it and swats the annoying hand away.

“Fucking chill, man,” Noah grumbles and shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot, thinking perhaps that he should better bugger off. That won’t do.

“You’re selling or what?” Daniel gets a bunch of crumpled notes from his pocket and pushes them into Noah’s hand without preamble. He glances down and counts, startled at the amount. Then his lips stretch into a shit-eating grin.

“Now we’re talking, Diaz! And would you look at that, you’re totally loaded, man, I bet now everyone would love to be your friend.” Noah continues to blabber but Daniel tunes him out as soon as he discreetly hands him a little bag crammed with weed.

That will last him a long while. Or give him a single unforgettable high.

Decisions, decisions.

Daniel doesn’t waste any more time in that stupid house, walking out once Noah loses interest in him and goes upstairs to have fun or whatever. Daniel doesn’t want to know.

If he could, he would probably erase this whole day from his memory. But that wouldn’t be fair to Sean.

Was he also fed up with the party seven years ago? Did he also think that there were too many people and it was too fucking loud? Was that why he left earlier, choosing to go home alone instead of waiting for Lyla another hour?

“Parties suck,” Daniel mutters into the cold October air as he strides across the front lawn, kicking hideous leering pumpkins out of his way.

On the sidewalk he pauses, realising that this is the point where he could call a cab. Where Sean should’ve called a cab but didn’t, apparently.

Daniel huffs and shakes his head, then shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, one fist closed tight over the little plastic bag, and starts down the dimly lit road. Night has fallen already and here, deep in the suburbs, the only sources of light are the scarce lamp posts and flashy decorations some people leave on. Other than that the streets are submerged in darkness. To him it doesn’t make that big of a difference.

If Sean didn’t call the cab, Daniel isn’t going to do it either. And he’s not in the mood to go by bus, the ride here was shitty enough, so when he reaches a bus stop he goes straight past it.

The silence of the night, broken only by distant barking and a muffled drunken argument somewhere behind closed doors, seems deafening after the heavy mix of loud noises at the party. The sound of his steps soon becomes the only thing that ties Daniel to his surroundings and their repetitiveness puts him in a kind of trance.

With nothing there to distract him Daniel slowly slips into his own thoughts, which unsurprisingly revolve around his brother.

During the years he came up with thousands of explanations as to what could’ve happened to him on that night seven years ago. He imagined the most gruesome and blood-curdling scenarios, but somehow none of them ate at him as much as the thought that he would never find out the truth.

Oh, what wouldn’t he give to know, once and for all. To be able to finally accept that Sean is never coming back. To let go the memory of him, alive and well, and the idea of him somewhere out there, dead and undiscovered, and so utterly, painfully alone. To have some sort of closure.

But if he can’t have that at least he’s got a means to diminish the weight of all his troubles, his fucked up childhood and what a sorry mess he has become. It rests reassuringly in his pocket, next to Sean’s jolly purple pipe. Daniel only needs to find a nice spot where he could get comfortable and put them to good use.

He’s about an hour walk away from home when a deserted playground comes into view. It’s set on the edge of a small park with tidy welcoming paths and benches and is completely devoid of people. Which is perfect for him.

Daniel passes the empty slides, spinners and monkey bars, refusing to remember the time when he and Sean both were crazy about them and could spend hours playing together, begging Dad to let them stay just a little bit longer. Now he doesn’t spare them a second glance and stalks further into the park, looking for a bench to crash on.

Meanwhile his hand dips into the back pocket of his jeans to retrieve a plain store-bought lighter. He pulls it out to see if it still works and when a weak flickering flame comes to life his mind wanders to the lighter Sean used to carry around. The one from Dad’s hometown in Mexico that had its crest on the shiny metal case. It was the only thing that wasn’t in Sean’s backpack with the rest of his stuff.

Daniel lets the flame die and grips the cheap plastic hard. The bench a few feet away seems quite alright, the lamp beside it casting a pale white light around it through the low-hanging tree branches. Parks like this, even if they are in the city, used to scare him with how dark they got late in the evening, and how menacing their thick foliage appeared, moving eerily in the wind. But he’s not afraid anymore.

Because there can be no monster out there more dangerous than he is.

So he heads towards that bench with slow confident steps.

Until a muffled scream stops him dead in his tracks.

The park is silent and although the road is not so far away there are no cars there, Daniel would’ve heard the tires and seen the headlights. The sound didn’t come from the road, he realises when there is another one, from somewhere among the trees further behind the bench he picked. Daniel changes his course and goes around it, stepping on the grassy soil.

He moves cautiously, quietly, still not certain he’s not imagining it but preferring to be careful, just in case.

The light of the lamp gets weaker as he proceeds into the dark. His eyes gradually adjust to it, however, and when he rounds a tree Daniel sees them.

There are two figures standing close in a clearing ahead. And under other circumstances Daniel would’ve taken them for a couple looking for a nice secluded place to have some fun. But as he continues to watch them Daniel senses that there is something off about their tense position. It’s almost like they froze in the middle of a dance, with one holding the other around the waist and making them bend back in a low dip.

Suddenly the figures jerk apart and then come forcefully together, as if the play button has been pressed and the scene has been set in motion. The sounds of struggle pick up as well and Daniel hears voices.

“Let me go, psycho!” a young male voice yelps and gets cut off by a sharp slap. “No, please, no- Let go!” comes out in a whimper.

“Shh, don’t fight it, you’ll only get yourself hurt,” the other voice is male too, but much deeper, older, and calm. A bit out of breath but so terrifyingly calm.

Daniel takes a step closer and his foot catches on something. He glances down to see a weird triangular-shaped thing with the texture that resembles feathers, stark white against the forest floor. He blinks a few times in confusion, then looks back to the clearing and notices a much lighter shade of the clothes the young guy is wearing. It’s almost as if he’s clad fully in white, as if he’s wearing a costume-

The guy is grabbed by the hair and pulled forcefully to his knees, which Daniel registers with a few seconds' delay, his head pulsing with the horrifying realisation.

That this guy, who sounds not much older than Daniel is now, than Sean was when he disappeared, must’ve dressed for a Halloween party.

That he left one alone, like Daniel did today, like Sean did seven years ago.

That he decided, foolishly, to take a cut through the park, the one he was familiar with, perhaps, and the one that didn’t scare him as much as it should have.

Because it turned out that there was a monster lurking there, waiting patiently for the innocent prey to fall right into its claws.

The rustle of clothes, drowned out by shaky sobs and whimpers, followed by the tell-tale clink of a buckle make something inside Daniel snap and push him into action.

His fast approach doesn’t go unnoticed because he doesn’t try to be quiet anymore. The older man whirls around, letting go of the boy’s hair and taking a step back, which allows Daniel to see his wide glistening eyes and the torn neckline of his white top. The next thing that grabs Daniel’s attention is the pocket knife the man is clutching in his hand. It gleams in the weak lighting as it points in Daniel’s direction.

“Who the hell-,” the man starts to say but the words get stuck in his throat as his whole body is seized by Daniel’s power, leaving him gasping helplessly for breath and unable to move form where he’s firmly pinned in place.

“Wh-what? H-how did you-?” the boy gasps out, scrambling away from Daniel in fear. Like he believes he’s come to torture him as well.

“Get the fuck out of here,” Daniel says in a low voice he barely recognises as his own.

The boy freezes for a moment, then climbs shakily to his feet and with the final, largely uncomprehending glance dashes away, disappearing between the trees so quickly Daniel loses sight of him in a blink of an eye.

Then he turns to the scumbag he keeps effectively immobilised.

The man tries to struggle against it, in vain of course, but it gives Daniel a kind of thrill he never felt before, having only ever crushed unresponsive wood and metal. This time, however, he’s got a human being at his mercy, who’s rapidly understanding the gravity of the situation if his choked whines are anything to go by.

Daniel steps closer, intending to look this bastard in the eyes. And when he does he is intrigued to see dread filling them slowly but surely.

If he still had his ability to speak, he would’ve probably been begging Daniel to spare him, to let him go. Not unlike that boy was begging him some five minutes ago.

He didn’t listen to the boy’s pleas then, why should Daniel give him the option to plead now?

And he doesn’t have anything to say to him either. He studies him silently, taking in the clean, tidy look of a regular suburban dweller, which is so unlike the ugly mug he imagined him to have. In fact, his appearance, or what Daniel can make of it in the semi-darkness, clashes with the disgusting act he stopped the man from doing so fundamentally he feels like reality is laughing him in the face again.

And it fills him with rage.

Was _this_ what happened to his brother? Was it someone like _this_ , common and absolutely inconspicuous, who took Sean away? Assaulted him in the middle of a deserted park, used him as he pleased and then disposed of him?

The anger growing from these questions, which circle in Daniel’s brain at immense speed, each more appalling than the next, turns into grim determination.

This man, who must’ve believed he was the scariest monster around, and that he could get away with anything, finally came across someone who knew what it felt like to lose those who did not deserve to be taken away. Someone who wouldn’t tolerate it. Who wouldn’t allow him to continue. Who wouldn’t let him take anybody else from their families, nor harm those who can’t fight back.

Daniel’s power burns and itches under his skin, his heart pounds fast and heavy, pumping blood through his veins and making it roar in his ears. All his pain and desire to punish someone, anyone for what he had to go through, what Sean had to go through, need to take material form at long last. And it needs to happen here, right this instant.

Daniel raises his hand and feels like he’s stuck in one of his vivid nightmares where he observes his own actions from the side, unable to stop himself and equally unable to look away. The man lifts above the ground, twitching ever so slightly, and drops the knife that has somehow stayed in his hand all this time. The sight of it triggers something dark and ruthless in Daniel and it’s this that pushes him over the edge.

The man’s body bends and twists the way ball-jointed toys sometimes get bent and twisted by careless kids who want to see how far their limbs can go until they break. It doesn't take too much really, and the sounds of bones cracking mix with agonized guttural groans. Those cut off rather abruptly and it brings Daniel out of his dream-like state.

He drops the still, lifeless body to the ground, suddenly aware of the strong smell of blood, and staggers back, half-expecting the dark messily arranged heap of clothes to stand up. But it doesn’t. Daniel lets out a shuddering breath and reflexively takes a deep inhale, immediately gagging at the metallic taste that clings to the back of his throat.

In that moment a car goes down the road. Two bright beams cut through the trees, and Daniel realises how close he is to the edge of the park. He eyes the body one last time and then goes blindly through the undergrowth, stumbling upon a narrow path that takes him to a blue Ford parked at the curb.

There is no driver inside but the trunk is propped open, which Daniel finds odd but doesn’t think much about. He doesn’t think much about anything, walking on autopilot as the pictures of a broken body going limp in his telekinetic hold flash in his memory bright and clear. He pauses to empty his stomach into someone’s cleanly trimmed hedge and is surprised to find himself only a couple of blocks away from home.

Their house has no decorations and looks pretty shabby compared to other houses on their Lame Avenue. Yet Daniel feels intimidated by its black windows that bore into him unseeingly when he arrives.

He is too out of it to make his entrance smooth and silent, but what he doesn’t expect is to come face to face with Dad who’s sitting at the kitchen counter in the dark with a can of beer in hand.

“Daniel,” he greets him quietly, calmly. Which is a complete opposite of how their conversations begin lately.

Daniel shuts the front door behind himself.

“Come sit with me, hijo,” Dad says and Daniel is compelled to write him off as a figment of his imagination, or maybe part of the weirdest, most realistic dream he’s been living in for the past few hours. Dad watches him stand there, not budging to join him, and sighs. “Alright, but I want you to hear me out.”

He puts the can down, runs his hands through his already tousled hair and turns to face Daniel fully, expression sombre and exhausted.

“I know that today was hard for you,” he starts. “That many other days were hard for you since Sean-” His voice gets thick and he has to clear his throat to continue. “I’m sorry that I failed to support you when you needed it most. But I want to change how things are between us.”

Dad speaks earnestly, and Daniel wishes he could meet him halfway, but the sound of Dad’s voice gets swallowed by the dull cracks of breaking bones and the sickening tearing of flesh that are resonating in Daniel’s skull.

“I want us to get through this together, Daniel, like family is supposed to, because we still have each other no matter what.”

Wet rattling breaths, pitiful strangled whimpers.

“I love you, hijo, I always will. I see that you’re struggling and more than anything I want to lift that weight off your shoulders. But I can’t do it alone, so I am asking you, please, don’t shut me out.”

And those fearful disbelieving eyes. Staring at him in pure horror. Losing focus, turning glassy, and reflecting what Daniel has become.

“Talk to me and I promise I will always be there for you from now on.”

Daniel shudders and concentrates on the present. His whole body is drenched with cold sweat and his breath is quick and ragged.

“It’s too late for that,” he croaks and briskly walks across the hall on unsteady legs. Dad makes no attempt to stop him.

He doesn’t go to his room though, he goes to Sean’s. It hasn’t changed in all these years and when Daniel sinks into the chair at the desk and switches on the silly lava lamp it’s almost too easy to fool himself that Sean is going to walk in any minute.

But what would he say if he learned what Daniel did today.

Sean’s sketchbook lies invitingly within arm’s reach and Daniel acts on impulse, pulling it closer and flipping it open on the last page.

There’s a bunch of sketches Sean made at the party. Several skulls and pumpkins, a doodle of little Lyla in a witch hat hitting little Sean with a broomstick and a note ‘love witch’s blessing’ above it. There’s also a fairly detailed portrait of the girl Sean had a crush on, Jenn, with wild hair, a pair of black cat ears on her head and whiskers painted across her cheeks.

Daniel stares at it without blinking for a while, then turns the page over and grabs a pen.

He never let himself add anything to Sean’s sketchbook, scared he would mess it up. But today he feels like the time has come. He may suck at drawing but he can’t keep everything bottled up any longer, he needs to somehow get it off his chest.

So he writes. His first note, a letter he will never send, his cry of agony and loneliness and despair.

‘Hey, Sean, wherever the hell you are. I killed a man today. Stop messing with me, Daniel, you’d say. I wish I was. With you gone everything went to shit,’ he begins. And after that the words come on their own.

The next day the ‘unspeakably cruel murder of a respected hard-working citizen, loyal husband and loving father of two’ is all over the news. Daniel turns them off before the name of that two-faced fucker can get etched in his memory.

Which is meant to happen anyway. Because when the police search the man’s car, a blue Ford found parked near the crime scene, they come across a strange assortment of things kept in the glove compartment that the family of ‘the victim’ claims does not belong to any of them.

And among those, considered to be simple trinkets at first, is an old empty lighter with ‘Puerto Lobos’ engraved on the metal case.


End file.
